


Cheat

by gonefornow



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, girl in the picture nothing against you - you were a good plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonefornow/pseuds/gonefornow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke cheats. Calum lives with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in Calum's POV.

 

  


 

She’s beautiful, this girl you’ve got your arm around. Long hair, perfect curves, pretty face. A dime. I honestly can’t decide if she would’ve looked at you if you weren’t a rock-star. Or maybe that’s my jealousy talking. You’re firmly out of your awkward stage now, and girls who look like her _notice_ when you walk into a room. 

I hate her. I don’t know her and I hate her. 

I hate how her short little red-dress hugs her perfect ass; you haven’t been able to take your eyes off it. I hate that you’re buying her drinks now, letting her giggle into your ear, press herself all up against you, brush her breasts against your arms. I hate how brazenly you enjoy the attention, even though I’m right here in this same dim club. 

I hate that you'll drive her back to her house as an excuse to fuck her in your car. I hate that you’ll come back to me the next morning, still reeking of her perfume when you climb into our bed, strip me bare and push into me, apologize for your transgression with your damn cock. 

I hate that I won’t be able to push you away.

I hate myself because I _know_ all this and still sit here, watch you tear out another piece of my heart in front of me and do nothing but nurse my sixth drink. But what _can_ I do? When I first realized what was happening, I threw a lot of tantrums, threatened to leave you, shut you out and did not speak to you for days. All for nothing. You found ways to corner me, kissed me breathless, made me burn till I wrapped my thighs around you and begged you to fuck deeper into me.

You are who you are, Luke Hemmings. You can break my heart into a thousand pieces and I would still run back to you when you call.

For now, anyway.

This will end someday. I have to hold onto that belief with all my faith. Someday, you’ll kiss me awake at 4AM with lipstick stains on your neck and scratch-marks I didn’t leave on your back, and I will finally have the strength to say no.


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you think she’s beautiful?”

You look up at me and I see the pain in your lovely eyes. Pain I’ve caused, over and over again, until it’s gotten to this point where you’re fighting hard to keep your voice nonchalant because you know there’s nothing to be gained from a fight.

It always ends the same way. I always force the issue till you let it end the same way. With me between your legs, fucking into you, leaving you incoherent with pleasure so you forget what I have done.

In the beginning, I tried to hide what I was doing from you. Took long, hot showers to wash away evidence of my indiscretion before I touched you, made sure to leave the room to take their phone-calls. A few months in, I got sloppy, left little scrunched up pieces of papers with unknown numbers in my pockets for you to find, came home to you with hickeys I couldn’t explain.

My guilty conscience wouldn’t let me keep lying to you.

I hate myself for making you feel so inadequate, so insecure when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t ask me why I do it; I couldn’t tell you, or rather, I wouldn’t want to.

The day you admitted you loved me seems like a lifetime ago. You tilted your head, so shy and unsure, but still so much hope in your big, pretty brown eyes as you somehow managed to stutter your feelings. Everything about you was open, willing to give love, and receive it. And I was greedy, itching to take.

I could not believe it. How could you want me? You, the boy I idolized all through school, wanted since we the day we met, first as a friend, and then as more when we grew older.

Insecurity is never an attractive trait. So before you sensed it and turned tail to run, some evil part of me found a way to make you feel as vulnerable as I do when you deserve nothing but love and tenderness and care.

I’m the bastard destroying the goodness in you, tearing you up piece by piece each time I come back to you with the evidence of my guilt. And you love me a little less each time, are a little less responsive each time. We won’t last much longer. Already, I can see the weary acceptance in your face when we’re together. One day soon, you’ll turn me away from your blissful warmth.

Losing you will be my penance.

I deserve to suffer, but for now let me enjoy this bliss, save these memories for when I’ll need them desperately.

I wrap my arms around waist, pull you flush against me so I can lose myself in your intoxicating warmth, smile at you in that sincere way I’ve used on so many conquests even though you don’t deserve this disrespect. 

“She’s just a friend, baby.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What movie are we gonna watch now?” Michael asks, a warm, comforting presence next to me.

You’re gone, of course. I don’t know if it is the waitress from the bar last night, or that fan in the skimpy little shorts you kept staring at in the hotel-lobby this afternoon. Not like it makes a difference. Either way, I’m left sitting on the couch, playing GTA with Michael, acting like I haven’t glancing at the door every few seconds.

Distracted as I am by your absence, I don’t answer him, watch the second-hand on that clock slowly tick till it chimes midnight. I look at the door again - still no hint of you. I know you won’t be coming back till the early hours of the morning, but I can’t stop myself from hoping that maybe tonight will be different. Even though it never is.

Next to me, Michael sighs.

“You deserve better than him, Calum.”

It’s a simple declaration but it makes my cheeks burn in shame. It’s not like Michael and Ashton don’t know you’re fucking me; you have no qualms against PDA, leave ample evidence of our love-making all over me where they can see, make me cry and moan your name even when they’re sleeping in rooms right next to us.

But I’d hoped it was less obvious how much your transgressions hurt me.

“Uh... I’m pretty tired, Mikey.” I feign a yawn, eager to end this conversation before it has a chance to start and break down the careful walls I’ve built to keep myself together. I’m ready to stand up and run to the safety of my bedroom, but his next words, spoke so quietly I only just hear them, floor me.

“I would treat you better.”

What...? He can’t possibly mean what I think he means! It’s Michael, my best-friend! I’ve misinterpreted him, no other explanation can exist. He’s never even left a hint that he might be attracted to men. Mouth gaping open, I turn to him, even now expect to see friendship and nothing else.

But he’s reaching for me; hands smaller and paler than the ones I’m used to settle on my waist and pull me close. He studies me for a few moments. I wonder what he sees? My mind’s a blank, trying to process this strange new world where Michael Clifford looks at me like that. It must show on my face too, this cow-like stupor I’m in; but there’s no way I can remove it.

And then, as if he’s taken my silence for acquiescence, his wide, red lips find mine, and immediately my thoughts are on you again.

His kiss is unsure and sweet. Practically a simple brush of his mouth on mine, his hands never stray from my waist. It’s innocent, irreverent, as if he’s afraid he will break me if he tries anything else.

Nothing like the possessive hunger in yours. Tasting this soft kiss, I can’t help compare how even your first kiss left me breathless, clinging to you with moist fingers because my legs buckled, your hands already in my back-pockets, cupping my ass. Letting me know right from the beginning that I belonged to you.

Lord help me because I still want to be yours. Even knowing where you are, what you must be doing right now. Even with the promises Michael makes in this delicate kiss that is so careful not make any demands, give me freedom to flee anytime I want to.

He’s not lying. He would treat me better, not leave me sitting on a couch, staring at a door for hours on a Friday night.

But some base part of me doesn’t care; it only wants your scorching kisses, the weight of your long, lean body pushing me deep into the mattress when you take me. Doesn’t care how much heart-break accompanies them, how many times you cheat, how many groupies you fuck. Doesn’t give a rat’s ass that Michael would treat me like a precious jewel.

My stubborn heart wants only you.

I break the kiss, and blink open my eyes. Green eyes, so earnest and sincere, are staring at me. Luckily, my head understands self-preservation a little better, enough to recognize the life-line Michael is throwing me right now. 

I lean over, brush another tender kiss against his mouth, then stand and pull him up with me. Without another word, I lead him towards my bedroom.

He’s the right choice.


	4. Chapter 4

“What are you doing, Luke?” You drop your unlit cigarette and stare at me as I follow you out through the backdoor onto the smoking patio.

This is an exclusive club, used to protecting celebrity clientele with secluded balconies and alcoves far from paparazzi and fans; you’ve left your body-guard talking to a woman inside.

You’ve left him inside too.

So here I am, alone with you at last.

It’s a privilege that I took for granted for so long. Now that it’s been ripped from me, I cannot help bask in this mini-triumph of having you all to myself, even if it only lasts a few moments. You obviously feel none of my elation; your beautiful dark eyes are exhausted, as if you knew this was coming and couldn’t find a way to get out of it. I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re obviously avoiding me. 

You probably would’ve preferred going to a different club tonight, the primary criteria being one where I was not present. Does that sound too self-important? Maybe you’re not ignoring me at all. Maybe you’ve just forgotten I exist. Only a few days ago, you were the one watching me in a club with my arm around someone else. Tonight, you didn’t looked at me once; but I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, or the way you let his arm wrap around your shoulder. I would laugh if I thought it’d keep me from crying. How the tables have turned.

Not that I like thinking about it, but I can’t help notice that you two look good together, a little more equal in stature than you and I were. You’re so slender, despite your attempts to bulk up. He’s a little wider, but he’s shorter than you. I wonder if you like how it feels when he holds you?

His feelings aren’t a surprise to me; for months, it’s been obvious he wants you. Who wouldn’t? You’re beautiful in every way. Of course, you didn’t believe it when I told you, always insisted he was straight, dismissed my jealousy as nothing but paranoia. Guess you took it in stride when he admitted he wanted you, huh? You must’ve because I came in early Saturday morning and caught you naked and fast asleep in his arms, your heads curled together on the same pillow. 

Did he fuck you? Did he fuck you? Didhefuckyou?

I’m obsessed. Need to know if you’ve let someone else touch what is supposed to be mine. The irony of that sentiment doesn’t escape me. How could I ever forget it’s my own stupidity, my unrelenting deceit that’s brought us to this point?

Have I lost my chance with you for good? I stare at you, looking for any hints that you’re at all willing and simultaneously drinking in the sight of you shamelessly. It’s not just your eyes that are tired, your entire body is slumped, shoulders sagging under the weight of everything that lies between us.

Is it really over? My heart clenches with the thought and my mind rebels, unwilling to accept the reality I have created.

But you have no intention of entertaining my fantasies. “I need to get back inside.” A short declaration as you push past me, head back towards the club. Towards him.

No!

Unthinking, I lash out my hand, blinding search for you in the dark to pull you back to me, make you stay, force you to accept that no matter what’s happened, You. Are. Mine. I will not let you go like this! It cannot be over, not like this. You have to give me another shot.

Or at least give me a proper goodbye...

I swallow the protests boiling up in your throat as my lips find yours, soft, addictive sweetness and it is so right. I refuse to believe you don’t want this anymore, not with the way you melt into my arms. Not with how perfectly your body slots against mine, like we’re meant to fit. Your hands no longer push me away as they instead wind themselves around my neck and you invite me in to taste you deeper.

A desperate, guttural sound. Was that from me? I don’t know, can’t think of anything but the taste of you, deprived of it too long now and now all I can think is I want more. I need to feel you thoroughly, taste you, mark you so that you and everyone else knows you’re mine.

It’s a rough few steps, then I have you shoved up against the wall. A good thing too, because already you sag against me as my fumbling, shaking hands breach the barrier of your t-shirt, memorize the feel of your silky skin, yank you forward, desperately trying to brand you into me.

It’s not enough.

I fumble with your jeans, but my fingers feel too disjointed to work these infernally complicated buttons. I end up shoving them hastily down the back of your skinny jeans, inside your underwear, kneading your perfect, round ass. You moan (or is that a whimper?) as my teeth find your throat, bite down hard where everyone can see so they know you belong to me. I’m distracting you too because my fingers are now at the most intimate part of you, catching against the rim, trying to push inside because I need to know no one else has touched you.

You whimper again (or was it a sob this time?) reminding me of your sweet mouth, and immediately, I crave the delicious, delicate taste of you. My lips find yours, crushing into your softness. Still not enough. I need to be closer, so much closer to you. Mindlessly, I free one hand from the confines of your jeans and grab for your smooth cheek, desperate to pull you closer.

That’s when I feel it.

Hot tears streak your cheeks and burn my hand.

It’s like I’ve been scalded; I drop your face and pull my other hand free from your pants to slam into the wall on either sides of you, desperately needing the support now as the cold reality of what I’ve done, what I’m doing right now floods into me as my eyes sweep open.

The sight of you is tantalizing. You’re flushed a delicious pink, full mouth swollen, bruised and oh-so-lovely crimson. Quivering, breathless, still relying on me for support even though I can barely hold up my own weight. But I can’t enjoy any of it, despite how beautiful you look.

Because all I see are your eyes, partially hidden underneath your thick lashes but still huge and so deep and shimmering like diamonds in this moonlight. But the look in them... they stare at me blank and dull, and so desperately sad...

And I'm the one responsible.

What have I done? My breath hitches.

I should leave. I should back off, leave you in peace so I never have to see that heart-break in your eyes. Is it the cowardly thing to do, or would it be a kindness? I don’t know... But every other choice feels even more wrong because I’ve painted myself into this corner and I’m now about to fall off into some abyss.

“Why’d you stop, Lucas?”

That old nick-name sounds so wrong in this cold context. Nothing like the times when it slipped from your lips like a chant as I rutted into you.

I push off the walls, move to put some space between us, terrified now because I can feel something in you breaking as you tighten your hands around my neck and force me to stay.

“Don’t go now...” you whisper, soft and seductive, lean up to press delicate, invitingly warm kisses against my own unresponsive mouth. “You were just getting started... This is what you want, isn’t it?” It’s a loaded question and I don’t want to presume to understand what you mean.

But I don’t have to guess because you explain yourself softly. “Why don’t you take me back to the hotel, baby? I’ll lay down for you, spread my legs open so wide, let you have me however you want because I’m such a good slut for you... Bet I’m your favorite...” Your hand grabs at mine, drags it over the curve of your ass, inviting me to cup the round globe as you push up into it.

It’s too much, this sensation of you offering yourself up to me again, my cock throbbing, my judgement clouded by your very presence after so long. And god help me because I can’t stop myself.

A rough growl escapes me as I give in, palm your ass, crush your lips underneath mine and force you so close until your ribs are digging painfully into my side.

This is the wrong choice. I’m probably destroying any chance I have left with you right now...

But for one last time, I’m going to be the one to take you home.


	5. Chapter 5

How long has it been since you took me from that club? An hour? Thirty minutes? Five? Time has no meaning to me anymore, so I can’t tell. All I can think, feel is you, the brute strength in your arms as you slam me up against the door and leave me breathless, the scent of your aftershave invading my senses.

There’s no tenderness in your kiss when your mouth descends on mine, only an all-consuming hunger that demands I submit. Rough hands tug at my hair until my head tilts back, giving you all the access you want because you’re tasting me now, drinking from my lips over and over as if you’re terrified I’ll make you stop any second. 

You don’t have to be so desperate. I’ll do whatever you want... Let you take whatever you want... Have you forgotten that I don’t have the strength to push you away, no matter how much you break me?

Your each move is urgent, unsteady, a little painful as you push me towards the bed. It’s a bit of a relief; I thought you wouldn’t have the patience to make it all the way to a flat surface before you took me. You couldn’t keep your hands off me on the way back to the hotel, pawed at me till you were practically had me naked in the back of that cab. Did the driver notice how desperate you are to have another go at your fuck-toy? I don’t know. You guard me so jealously from other people. 

I suppose I’m yours exclusively, meant to be played with when you want me and set aside when you don’t.

A few fumbling movements and now I’m laying underneath you, my legs wide open to accommodate your narrow hips. Rough jean scrape against my inner thighs; you’re too impatient to even bother taking your clothes off. Of course I’m completely bare, vulnerable and open. It’s a bad metaphor for our ‘relationship‘.

I wish I was drunker so I could pretend it was alcohol clouding my senses and making my face heat up instead of your touch. Strands of your fine blond hair go slipping through my finger-tips before I let them travel down your back, disappointed by the feel of cotton instead of supple muscles. But it’s as if you’ve read my mind, give me this one tiny concession as you break the connection of our melded lips to tug off your shirt before your mouth finds mine again.

Go on. Leave me breathless. Tempt me, tease me, make me long for your kiss till I believe the lie that you love me too, want me for more than the hole between my legs. Help me forget how much I hate myself for giving in.

Not for the first time tonight, your elegant fingers brush against my opening. You’re impatient, more so than usual, not taking time to seduce me slowly like you have on most other occasions when you’ve made love to me. Have we ever made love? Has it always been fucking? I don’t have time to contemplate the question, the sudden pain of long digit forcing themselves into me is heady distraction, first one, then a second and a third spreading me open. I’m trembling, nails clawing into your back, my head tossed back against your pillows as I try to adjust to this invasion.

“Has he fucked you yet?”

The question is so crass that in spite of the pain of your fingers, I can’t stop my eyes from sweeping open, lifting themselves up to meet yours, cobalt blue in this light and colored by doubt and possessiveness, all mixed with your lust. Ahh... that’s why you’re in such a hurry. You need to be sure no one else has played with your toy.

Shame fills me. I haven’t thought of him since you kissed me on that balcony. It’s embarrassing. The slightest touch from you, and my resolve faded away so quickly.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. He wants it and I tried... but I always found excuses for him (and myself too), begged off each time he’s asked since that Saturday night two weeks ago when I first invited him into my bed. It felt too soon... I wasn’t ready, and he is so gentle that he would never just take unless he was sure I wanted it.

So unlike you. You were never that concerned, content to simply fuck me into submission till I couldn’t stop my thighs from wrapping around you.

It makes me angry with myself. With you, although I know that’s futile. Makes me want to lie; it would bring me pleasure to cause you some tiny bit of the hurt you’ve caused me... But there is no hiding the truth from you, no matter how much I want to nod ‘yes’, finally learn how jealousy and rage would look on your face.

A small shake of my head, as I drop my eyes. 

You exhale. I didn’t realize you were holding your breath.

I want to look at you, see what your eyes look like now that you know I’m still yours. But it takes too much courage, I’m afraid that I won’t see much of anything and I know your indifference would shatter the last little bits of me. Anyway, my opportunity is gone because you bury your face into my neck as you start pushing in, fucking slow and deep into me.

“I’m going to treat you so right from now on, baby...”

Something wet stings my eyes; it’s a while before I realize it’s my own tears. There’s no physical pain. But your empty promise cuts into me; I know you’ll forget in daylight and it hurts because I won’t.

For now though, I can ignore it. You feel so good, pegging against that spot inside me that makes my vision dance, leaves me open-mouthed and gasping for breath. I try to focus on that toe-curling sensation, ignore how each of your thrusts inside me is pushing out something precious I know I will never get back.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: flameretardant123


End file.
